IV. Old Man Spinner looked up from his book when Diradem burst into his room. His two guards were holding on to the man, but the struggling thief still managed to drag them to where Spinner lounged in a comfortable sitting chair.
"Let go of him and leave us," Spinner commanded his guards. He watched silently as the pair withdrew, bowed to him, and went quietly out of the room, casting uncertain glances at the spiky-haired thief dressed in fine clothes. He eyed the young thief and chuckled, "You look more a rich fop than a cutpurse, kid."
"Your new guards could use a lesson in respect for their superiors," muttered Diradem, irritably trying to smooth out the creases on his silk suit. Briefly, a hand strayed to his hair, checking if his spiky locks were still intact. He turned on Spinner with irritation in his eyes. "I want some answers."
"Wine? It's real Al De Baran '76. Not the watered-down swill they push at the docks." Spinner gestured toward the small mahogany table at his side where a bottle of wine stood, flanked by two wineglasses. One wine glass was half-empty.
"I don't really like to drink. You know that." Diradem's voice froze the air between them.
Spinner appraised the young man standing in front of him. Diradem stood a couple of inches short of the average man's height. He reminded Spinner of a stalking mountain cat, lithe and explosive. He was damn proud of what the boy became, and now was the time to complete the growing process. He smiled at Diradem. "Sit, kid," he said, indicating the other chair across the room.
But Diradem remained standing, staring intently at him.
"Very well," he began. "Times change. People change. When the head of the Shadows was replaced last month, we began a new agenda. It seemed like business as usual at first. But then, the guildmaster dealt with the Black Circle."
Diradem started at the mention of the infamous cabal of mad sorcerers.
"You've heard of them, kid?"
"Yes. They're...evil."
Spinner shook his head. "Good and evil have a lot of gray areas in between. The Albertan Shadows aren't a guild of thieves anymore. We're moving in a new direction." He reached for the wineglass and gulped its contents. "I'm not the most moral of persons on Rune Midgard, Dir, but this, what the Shadows is involved in, is definitely wrong. I should probably retire, find a nice house in Comodo and live the rest of my life there. I'm old, Dir, and tired."
"What are they planning, really?" Diradem walked to the bay windows lining one side of the wall. It offered a pleasant view of Alberta Bay where a two-masted sailing ship was pushing out into the open sea. It would sail north up the coast to Izlude, or maybe across the sea to far-off Turtle Island, and briefly, Diradem wondered what it would be like to just sail away. And then, the realization: he will sail away, away from all this, maybe somehow find what he really wants--
Spinner's words brought him back. "... Venris as your wife, you'd be the main inheritor of the Astergarden estate..."
--Venris Dastonia.
He looked back at Spinner, ran his hands through his hair. "I won't do it, Spinner. I quit."
The old man didn't reply. He knew the boy would never stay, knew it as fact since he saw the boy six years ago, hungry and afraid, a newcomer to Alberta, fleeing a past he wouldn't talk about.
Their eyes met in silent understanding. The old man nodded to the young. A smile creased Spinner's face, answering Diradem's brief one.
"It's been a good six years, Spinner. Thank you."
Diradem turned and walked away.
Spinner poured a shot of Al De Baran vintage with trembling hands raised it in toast.
